Из альбома: Mr. Hollywood Jr., 1947
You don't have to pay for any more
Of what I'm selling door to door
I will demonstrate for free
But each opportunity
Always ends in an apology
From the cue card that you read
Tell me what you think I need
While you're burying the lead
And showing me the door.
There's people crying everywhere
From being left in such despair.
And they'd all expect for me to care,
Who wants to be a millionaire?
Sitting there behind a desk
Very Greco-Romanesque
And I'm bringing out the guns
Battling the evil ones.
Well I used to fly, the clouds below
But my superpower's running low.
Shoot the moon and gasp for air
Miracles don't have a prayer
The weatherman says freak for rare
And gives the highs and lows.
I'm damaged way beyond repair.
It's too much pressure brought to bear.
Who wants to take this on a dare?
Who wants to be a millionaire?
Who wants to be a millionaire?
Babe, I'm getting back in line.
On the nickel, on the dime.
'Cause I just don't have the heart to share
I guess you stole that fair and square
Climbing up the empire state.
The planes were grounded at the gate.
The sky's the limit. Celebrate.
You made it to the top
And the stars are everywhere
Yasir Arafat to Cher.
Everyone who's won is there.
Who wants to be a millionaire?
Who wants to be a millionaire?
Who wants to be a millionaire?